


sobriety & apple pie & religion, oh my!

by Anonymous



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Everybody Lives, Gen, Post-Canon, Stanford Student Sam Winchester, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 12:16:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29884455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When Sam answers his door, he expects one of his friends, or one of Jess's friends, or maybe even Jess herself (sometimes she locks herself out). He is not expecting his older brother, and he is definitely not expecting a version of his older brother from 16 years into the future.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Comments: 66
Kudos: 488
Collections: Anonymous





	sobriety & apple pie & religion, oh my!

**Author's Note:**

> based off of this post https://deanspurpleflannel.tumblr.com/post/644856225569406976/post-series-dean-accidentally-time-travels-back-to

When Sam heard a knock on the door, he kind of thought it would be one of his friends, or Jess’s friend Rose who liked to pop over unannounced, or even Jess herself--maybe she forgot her keys, she does that sometimes--but when Sam opens the door, it’s not any of those people. Actually, it’s maybe the last person he expected to see, of all the people in the entire world. 

“Shut your mouth, Sammy, you’ll catch flies,” Dean says, pushing his way into the apartment. Okay, but Dean and Sam haven’t spoken in like six months--not since Dean’s birthday. And Dean doesn’t know where Sam lives. Also, this Dean is so very clearly _not_ the same Dean that Sam saw right before he left for Stanford, last time he saw his brother, that he kind of wants to laugh. 

The Dean Sam saw last was still kind of babyfaced, with hair cropped military-short like Dad wanted, swimming in an oversized leather jacket and wearing dirty, ripped jeans. This Dean has longer hair, is dressed in a t-shirt with a purple (purple!) flannel over top, rolled up to the elbow. He has wrinkles on his face and his jeans are clean, and he's not even wearing the amulet Sam gave him. Sam does a quadruple take. He even _holds_ himself different, more confident or something. But none of this makes sense, makes any sense at all, so Sam clears his throat and says the first thing that comes to mind. 

“A witch’s curse? Aged you up?” he suggests, and Dean laughs. 

“No, not a witch’s curse.”

“Then what is it? Also, why the hell are you here?”

Dean runs his hand through his hair. Sam’s eyes are drawn to the motion and for a second he thinks the glint on his brother’s finger is just the regular silver ring, but--

left hand, ring finger, a nicer band, obviously not the same silver ring Dean picked up somewhere in high school--

Sam’s eyes bug out of his head, and Dean tracks his gaze to his left hand. 

“Oh,” he says. “Okay. Um. You’re not gonna believe this, but I’m from the future. Something like sixteen years in the future, to be exact.”

“What the fuck,” Sam says numbly. “Time travel--that’s not real. Dean, come on.”

“There are plenty of things that you think aren’t real that are very real,” Dean says. “Take _vampires,_ for one, god. We were such friggin’ amateurs before….well. Spoilers, right?”

“What?” Sam cries. “Time travel, vampires? Also--what’s this _we_ crap? I got out, okay?” He gestures to the apartment around him. “I’m living here, _so happily,_ with my girlfriend, and I’m gonna be a lawyer, and I’m never picking up a gun again, okay?”

The look on Dean’s face is--it’s heartbreaking, the pure devastation on his face. Sam’s breath catches. 

“Yeah,” Dean says, schooling his face, his voice choked up. “Yeah, ‘course, Sammy.”

Sam squints at him. 

“Don’t call me Sammy,” he says. “‘Sammy’ is a chubby twelve year old.” Dean swallows.

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “Old habits, huh? Hey, I’m kind of an old man--can we sit down?”

“Oh,” Sam says, dumbfounded. “Sure, sorry.” He points the way to the couch, and they sit, Sam in the armchair and Dean, sprawling on the couch. There’s a smear of glitter on Dean’s thigh. Sam wonders what Dean would’ve been doing with glitter. 

“Where’s Jess?” Dean asks. Sam’s Dean doesn’t know Jess, has never heard of her, and so this is a good sign, Sam thinks. This means he and Jess will _last,_ that Dean will get to meet her someday. Assuming, of course, that this is really time-travel. 

“She’s at work,” Sam says. 

“Ah, okay,” Dean says. “Cool." 

“So,” Sam says. “Time travel. How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

“Well, I’m from 2021,” Dean says, rubbing his chin with his hand. “I mean, what do you want me to tell you? About the LEGOs stuck in Baby’s vents? About the soldier boy you stuck in the ashtray? About your first kiss--Amy Pond, who I guess you haven’t told me about yet. Here.”

He produces a silver blade from nowhere and slices into his hand; Sam leaps to his feet. 

“Dean! What the hell, why did you do that?”

“Prove I’m not a shapeshifter, duh,” Dean says, rolling his eyes. Shapeshifter? Sam’s never heard of a real one--just remembers reading about some in lore when he was a teenager. Dean doesn’t even seem phased by the blood welling out from his hand, and Sam wonders what kind of a future Dean lives in, where maybe being a shapeshifter is a frequent possibility. He goes to the kitchen and gets the first-aid kit, tosses it to Dean who wraps up his palm, casual as anything. “I’d do the holy water test, too, but I don’t have any and I can’t really see you keeping any of that around, either.” Sam sits back down warily, wondering just how many demons are in Dean’s future if the _holy water test_ is normal. 

“Christo,” he says, and Dean doesn’t flinch. “Okay, not a demon. But if you’re Dean that doesn’t explain how you know where I live,” Sam says, gesturing all around himself. “Jess and I are moving before next semester starts, and I doubt I’m inviting my brother over for drinks in the next two months.”

“You’re an idiot if you think I didn’t keep tabs on you while you were here,” Dean says. “I knew your addresses so well I remembered ‘em in 2021.”

“That’s not creepy at all,” Sam mutters, kind of flattered. “Fine. Let’s say I believe you. _Time travel?”_

“Yeah,” Dean says, sighing. “Believe it or not, this ain’t my first brush with time travel, either. Dunno why I got popped out in Palo Alto, but whatever. It’ll probably only be a few hours before my ride figures out where I am.”

“Your ri--okay, you know what, never mind,” Sam says, pinching his nose in frustration. He exhales, then brightens. “Tell me about the future.”

“Jesus, Sammy,” Dean says, kind of laughing. “Obviously, I’m not going to do that.”

“How am I in the future? Did I get taller? Are me and Jess married? Are we--” he gestures between himself and his brother-- “on talking terms? Do I...do I have any kids?”

“Sam,” Dean says, smiling fondly, “in 2021 you’re doing fucking fantastic, okay? You have an awesome wife and _yes,_ you got a kid. We see each other all the time, and I’ve literally never seen you happier. And no, Sasquatch, I don’t think it’s physically possible for you to get _taller.”_

“Okay,” Sam says, content with those answers--beyond content, ecstatic, actually. A kid and a wife, and Dean just around the corner? Sounds like a dream come true. “So what about you?” He points at Dean’s hand and waggles his eyebrows. “You got a wife, too?”

“‘m married, yeah,” Dean says, looking down at the ring like he, too, is startled to see it there. 

“I never thought you’d get married,” Sam says honestly. 

“Me neither,” Dean says. “But Cas wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Good,” Sam says. “And do _you_ have kids? Are you happy?”

“I have two kids,” Dean says. “Son ‘n a daughter. I am also happier than I’ve ever been.”

“Woah,” Sam says, leaning back on his chair. He can’t believe it--Dean Winchester, apple pie life. Wife and two kids--and he’s never been happier. Sam had always kind of thought Dean would meet a girl during a hunt sometime, a fellow hunter, and they’d be partners in both senses of the word, killing monsters, saving people. But if Dean has kids--Sam doesn’t know everything, and he doesn’t know this future-Dean, but he does know that if Dean has kids then he’s done hunting, and that’s...that’s insane to process. Maybe he and Sam are perfectly normal. Maybe they finally went back to Lawrence and live down the road from each other, and Sam is a lawyer and Dean is a--a mechanic, or something, and Dad pops by sometimes but mostly leaves them alone, and everyone is _happy._ It sounds too good to be true. 

“Wait, do I have a son or a daughter?”

“I’m not telling you that,” Dean says, huffing out a laugh. “Jeez, you’re bad at this time travel stuff.”

“Sorry! I just--fine. Tell me about your wife.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Cas is the most badass and loving person I’ve ever met, god knows why that idiot puts up with _my_ dumb ass, and I wouldn’t be the man I am today without having known that angel. Happy?”

“Um, _yeah,”_ Sam says, because Dean just called his wife an angel and an idiot in the same sentence. Dean really must’ve gotten out, then. That streak of pink glitter is evidence of kids, Sam thinks, and Dean has _smile lines._ This is beyond anything Sam could’ve dreamed. He stands. “I’m gonna get a drink--you want some beer or something?”

“Nah, I’m running on a year sober and I don’t wanna break my streak,” Dean says casually, as if he hasn’t just exploded Sam’s head. “I’ll take a water or a coke, though.”

“Alright,” Sam says, regaining his footing, and he goes to the kitchen. What the fuck. Dean being self-aware enough to be _sober?_ Dean has kids, and a wife, and sobriety? Hello?

This can’t be real, Sam decides, hysterically. Sam is, actually, dreaming. Or maybe this is some kind of creature, here to lure Sam into a false sense of security, and then murder him. He leans against the kitchen counter, breathing hard, and decides the first order of business is making sure he’s awake. He grabs a kitchen knife and pokes his finger, wincing in pain and watching the blood well up. Okay, not a dream. He turns on the sink and puts his hand in the water, then he goes to the cabinet and gets two cups. Well, if Dean is fake, there’s not much Sam can do about it--he left everything behind when he left. 

He fills the cups with water and ice, then takes a deep breath and picks up the knife from beside the sink, slides it up his sleeve. It’s not much, but it’s something. 

He picks up the cups and carries them back out to the family room, to find Dean leaning over, elbows on his knees, hands folded, head bowed, muttering something. It looks like--well, it looks like he’s praying. Sam feels his eyebrows shoot up, and he puts one cup on the coffee table, then sits down, cradling his own cup in his hands. 

Dean sits back up, face unreadable, and picks up his cup.

“Were you praying?” Sam asks. 

“Yeah,” Dean says. He runs his hand through his hair. “Only way you know for sure someone’s listening, huh?”

What the fuck, Sam thinks. What the fuck. In sixteen years Dean gains a wife, two kids, sobriety, and _religion?_ Some of Sam’s shock must show on his face, because Dean laughs. 

“Hey, come on, dude. Gotta believe in _something,_ might as well believe in God and the angels. I know _you_ pray every day, so don’t judge me for this.”

Okay. Cool. That’s insane and seems very uncharacteristic of Sam’s older brother, but okay. 

“Sure,” Sam says. “Guess you went a little more apple pie than I thought.”

“Hey,” Dean says, frowning. “Apple pie is the best kind of pie.”

Sam isn’t sure what that’s supposed to mean. Apple pie life is the best life? Duh, everyone knows hunting sucks ass. Maybe literally? Also duh, everyone knows Dean’s favorite pie is apple. 

“Um, okay,” he says finally. He’s still pretty sure this is entirely fake. It’s all too surreal. 

But some of it--life with Jess, a kid, Dean living nearby--Sam _wants_ it. Maybe Sam is overreacting, and it all just sounds weird without fifteen years of context. Maybe Sam and Dean and Jess and Cas and Sam’s kid and his niece and nephew all go to church together. Weirder things have happened. 

“If you’re from the future,” Sam says. “What’s happened in, uh, 2013?”

“Why 2013?” Dean asks, amused.

“It’s basically the halfway point between you and me, right?” Sam asks, and Dean rolls his eyes. He stops to ponder. 

“2013 was a bad one,” he says after a minute. “Uh, we met Charlie around then, though.”

“Charlie?”

“Yeah, she’s like our little sister,” Dean says. Sam opens his mouth to ask more questions, and Dean holds up his hand. “Dude, stop. I’m not gonna tell you anything too revealing, so stop trying.”

“You’re no fun,” Sam grumbles. 

“You got that right,” Dean says. 

“Would it be too revealing to ask when you gave up hunting?” Sam asks, hoping the answer is “no” and also “soon”. Dean looks at him like he’s crazy, and then there’s a noise, like a rustling, or a flapping of wings, or something. 

“Took you long enough,” Dean grumbles, looking at something behind Sam, and Sam turns, slowly, hairs on the back of his neck raising, and then he nearly falls out of his armchair. 

“What the fuck!” he cries, because there’s a man there. He’s wearing a trenchcoat over a suit and tie, with dark rumpled hair and blue eyes. 

“Hello, Dean,” the man says, his voice low and gravely, then he turns the weight of his gaze to Sam. “Hello, Sam.”

“Who are you?” Sam asks, brandishing his knife. 

“Woah, Sammy, calm down,” Dean says, appearing behind him and removing the kitchen knife from his hand. He tosses it onto the coffee table and moves to stand beside the other man. Dean is taller, by a little, but something about the stranger exudes power. “That’s my ride home.”

“What?” Sam asks, and he looks over the trenchcoated man again. There’s a pink glittery handprint on his tie. Dean is comfortable enough with this guy to press their shoulders together. Sam relaxes a little, though he’s still not really sure all of this is real. 

“Your future self informed me to tell you ‘hello’,” the trenchcoated man says, looking at Sam, and Sam sputters. 

“So you just know a time-travel guy?” Sam asks. Dean shrugs.

“Yeah,” he says. “Don’t worry about it. In sixteen years it’ll seem normal.”

“What,” Sam says. “How. I can’t believe this.”

“Believe it, Sammy,” Dean says. He turns to the trenchcoat guy, who holds out a hand. Sam expects Dean to laugh, to make a deflection, or a joke, but Dean takes the guy’s hand, laces their fingers together. 

“I will alter your perception of this event,” Trenchcoat Guy says. “You will think it was just a dream.”

“What?” Sam says. “You can do that?”

“I can do many things,” Trenchcoat Guy says. “This is one of them. Here.”

He reaches out two fingers, aims at Sam’s forehead.

“Wait!” Dean says. Trenchcoat Guy stops. “Sammy, do me a favor--give Jess a huge hug and tell her you love her, okay?”

“Um, okay,” Sam says, a bit nervous--why would Dean ask that of him?

“Alright, Cas, hit it,” Dean says. Wait, did he just say--

  
  
  


Sam wakes up, bleary, startled to find that he’s fallen asleep on the couch. He never really does that, since it’s too small for him.

“Ugh,” he says, rubbing his eyes. 

“Did you have a nice nap?” Jess asks, walking into the room with a plate of nachos. She comes to his side and lowers the plate so he can take one. 

“Yeah,” Sam says. “Oh, I had the weirdest dream.”

“What was it about?” 

“Time travel, I think,” Sam says, putting the nacho in his mouth and sitting up straight. Jess sits down next to him. He swallows his chip. “I can’t really remember, I dunno.”

“Dreams are like that,” Jess says. She tucks her feet on the couch beside her and offers another nacho to Sam. He takes it and watches her. Her hair is pulled back into a bun, little blonde curls escaping and framing her face, and she startles when she notices him looking at her and wrinkles her nose. 

“What?” she says. Sam hugs her. 

“I love you,” he says, and she laughs, and pats his shoulder.

“I love you too, weirdo,” she says, and they finish the plate of nachos together. 

**Author's Note:**

> -this takes place in june 2005. sam & jess move before term starts in september. you know what happens in november.  
> -dean gave that stupid religious answer about believing in god because he was trying to fuck with sam  
> -sam's wife in the future is, of course, eileen :)  
> -sam's kid is jack. he & eileen will have other kids, obviously, but not yet  
> -dean & cas's kids are jack and claire  
> -why did dean get time traveled back to '05? idk.  
> -i believe in post-canon human cas but i needed him to be an angel for this one. considered having jack be the one to pick dean up but ehhhh. i like to think jack turned into a toddler (which is where the pink glitter is from)  
> -in stanford era, sam thinks happy=apple pie=not hunting. he doesn't see how there can be both
> 
> thank you for reading! comments & kudos are always appreciated! come find me @ deanspurpleflannel on tumblr :)


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